Roxanne Taylor (Born 16th October 1951) is Roger Taylor's cousin. The two of them have always been close despite the distance between them. Every year, she spends a month in London with him when his university is out but the summer of '72, well she...
"The driver says it's going to be at least another hour before we get there," Freddie explains and John lets out a quiet groan.
He's knackered, truly knackered and all he wants to do is sleep but for some reason, which he cannot fathom, he can't do so when they're moving. The bus has to be stationary and he's so tired that he's considering asking around to see if anyone has anything that will help him sleep.
"Deaky?" he opens his eyes to see Freddie holding up the Scrabble board, "Want to play?"
"I'll give it a miss," he shakes his head and Roger sits at the small table.
"I'll play. Deaky can check the dictionary."
"I think John need to go sleep," Brian hums, "Why don't you go lie on your bunk?"
He does as Brian suggests, even though he knows that it won't do anything but it is quieter at the bunks and maybe, just maybe, he'd pass out.
The bunks are small and John has to bend his legs at a weird angle (as does everyone else) to get comfortable and as he does just that, he can't help but think that Roxy would fit beside him perfectly.
He misses her - more than he'd admit to anyone but even though he has the guys, he still feels somewhat lonely.
++|++
Surprising even himself, the young bassist is able to fall asleep in his bunk and he somehow doesn't wake when they stop and when he does wake, the crew are hauling the equipment off of the trucks.
Climbing off of the bus, the first thing he sees is Brian talking on one of the payphones and he wordlessly walks over to join him, picking up one that's a few down so he doesn't disturb him and after putting his money in, he dials Roxy's number, leaning against the wall as it rings.
If he's got it right, it should be around 2 pm back home - she should be awake though he supposes that it depends how wild their night out went.
"Hello?"
He frowns. That's not Roxanne, "Mary?"
"John!" she greets, "Hi! How's America?"
"It's alright," he says slowly, "Where's Roxy?"
"Oh," she lowers her voice, "She's not very well I'm afraid."
"She's not?" his hand tightens around the receiver, "Is she-what's wrong?"
"Last night," Mary begins, "On our way home, we wanted food and so we stopped at this kebab place. Hers looked a little off but she didn't listen when we told her not to eat it."
Yeah, that sounds about right.
"Do you want to speak to her?" she asks.
"Is she up?"
"Well, I've just got her onto the couch. When I got here, she was hugging the toilet."
"If she's up to it, then yeah."
He hears Mary asking her if she wants to speak to him and can't help but smile at her eager reply and then he hears Mary saying that she's going to nip out and get her some supplies and the then the door closes.
"John?"
Right away, he can tell she's had a rough night; her voice is quiet and rather hoarse sounding.
"John, I'm sick."
"So I hear, love," he chuckles, leaning against the wall, "What on earth were you thinking?"
"I don't think I was, to be honest. I was pretty drunk."
"Did you at least have fun before?"
"I did and I got your parcels yesterday," she mumbles, "I love them, John."
"Yeah?"
"You know I love tat like that. They'll all be going on my fridge."
"You could ask Mary to look in your mailbox for you when she gets back."
"How many have you sent?" she laughs.
"Not telling."
"John," she whines, "Then will you please tell me how the tour is going?"
"S'alright," he shrugs, "We've not done much since I last rang. Just been on the bus."
"Alright?" she repeats, "Just alright? What's wrong?"
He stays quiet as Brian hangs up with whoever he's talking with, giving him a smile as he passes.
"John?"
"I don't know," he breathes, "I just...'m tired, Rox."
"You haven't been sleeping?" he can picture the frown that's probably on her face.
"Not really," he mumbles, "I get a couple hours if the bus stops but if I wake up and we're on the move, I can't go back to sleep."
Roxy stays silent as if she knows that he needs to get his frustrations out.
"I miss London," now that he's started, he doesn't think he can stop, "I miss the rain - it's so bloody hot over here and don't get me started on the tea."
"The tea?" she asks tentatively.
"Can't get a decent cuppa anywhere," he grumbles, "And I miss you."
"Oh, John," she whispers, "I miss you too."
"And I feel awful because this is what we wanted, to bring our music to people across the world..."
"It's new," she says quietly, "It's going to take a while to get used to it all; the exhaustion, the sleeping on the bus...it'll get easier, John."
He sure hopes so.
++|++
say hello to my new Christmas jumper -which i'm just about to purchase
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